


Everlong

by Jackie_Gaytona



Series: Supersexy Swingin' Sounds to Make Love to [1]
Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, Love spells and Magic, M/M, himbo nandor, markets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackie_Gaytona/pseuds/Jackie_Gaytona
Summary: “There are times when I think that maybe he cares about me; even if on some platonic level. But then he just…covers it with insults and demands. Most of the time he’s just downright mean.” He frowned as that all-too familiar feeling of heartache coiled in his chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You’re not my therapist.” He chuckled uncomfortably.“You love him,” the woman said decidedly.***Guillermo and Nandor find themselves in a wise woman's pavillion at the monthly nighttime markets. The wise woman wants to test out some new magical oils that will make Nandor reveal his true feelings. What could possibly go wrong?
Relationships: Guillermo/Nandor the Relentless (What We Do in the Shadows TV)
Series: Supersexy Swingin' Sounds to Make Love to [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807585
Comments: 61
Kudos: 317





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a dumb little fic inspired by a dream I had last night (shout out to my brain for actually dreaming about my OTP). I also really wanted to write Nandor as a complete dumbass.
> 
> Probably won't be more than 2 chapters long, but that's what I said about my other multi-chapter fic so...*shrugs*
> 
> (Title inspired by the Foo Fighters song ofc. Because I suck at titles)

The monthly night markets, held on the boardwalk at South Beach, were always a magical event for the household. Magical for the vampires because there was always an assortment of virginal blood for the taking, and magical for Guillermo because it was one of the few social outings he regularly participated in that wasn’t work-related. It was almost like having a night off (which was why he had chosen his official day off to fall on a different day). It wasn’t only that that made these nights so enchanting, though. It was the dark atmosphere, punctuated with the greens and pinks and blues of little party lights. It was the burlap tents and marquees that lined the boardwalk and offered trinkets and tacky gadgets, paintings, food, clothing, palm-reading services. It was the way the place surged and swelled like an ocean of life. The smell of deep-fried food and incense; the spectrum of sounds ranging from hushed murmurs to screeching children. The markets felt _alive_ , even as death trailed through its crowds.

Much like carnivals and festivals, these nighttime markets were as much a hunting ground for vampires as they were a hunting ground for hungry, bored pedestrians. Having been in the vampire-hospitality business for so long – and, of course, becoming a slayer more recently – Guillermo could spot the nightwalkers a mile away. The lone brunette child with a silvery gleam in her eye, waiting for an unsuspecting adult to crouch down and ask her where her parents are; the group of Victorian-era adults huddled in a corner, all of which looked _far_ too old to be cosplayers; the tall, clean-shaven black man by the hotdog stand whose complexion held an unnatural yellow pallor, almost like he was shedding a thin layer of skin. The latter locked eyes with Guillermo as they crossed paths, and Guillermo reflexively felt for the crucifix ring hidden in his pocket.

Then he ran head-first into a big, soft pillar. He bounced off of Nandor’s chest and stumbled back, quickly adjusting his glasses as he looked up at the vampire’s stern face. Warmth flooded his cheeks, but he was secretly thankful he couldn’t see any of his other housemates following.

“Guillermo!” Nandor chided loudly. “Where were you? Did you get lost?”

“No,” Guillermo said quickly, hating the way his voice squeaked. “There was a stall with some rings that I—”

“You know how dangerous it is to be walking out here alone at night!”

Guillermo took a deep breath and tried to ignore the curious eyes that were starting to flicker in their direction. “I’m a thirty-year-old man, Mas—Nandor,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“I don’t care if you’re a seventy-year-old man!” Nandor spat. “I told you earlier that this place is no longer safe for a venerated slay—I mean, a weak little human like you.” Nearby, a group of teenaged boys snorted.

Guillermo bristled. “I’m going to look around,” he said curtly, and made to storm off. Before he could get more than one pace away, a hand shot out and grabbed Guillermo’s own hand with an iron grip.

“You’re doing it again, Guillermo!” Nandor said loudly. “Hopping off like an insolent little bunny! Do I need to hold your hand?” He pulled him to his side and didn’t release him, and Guillermo stifled a groan, wincing. Nandor didn’t seem to notice. “We will walk around together. Don’t worry, Guillermo, I will protect you from all the creepy creeps lurking about in the dark.” More snorting and laughter nearby – this time from a number of different gatherings. Guillermo hung his head. His brain was fighting with itself; one part wanted to force his hand away and hurry back to the Ford; the other, far stupider, part was flipping around excitedly over the feeling of Nandor’s huge paw enveloping his own small hand.

 _You’re pathetic_ , the sensible part of his brain goaded. But the flittery, enamoured side of had the upper hand right now. He tried not to show it in his face, which he kept austere. He straightened his shoulders in an attempt to display more confidence; maybe if all those hungry, lurking vampires saw the hand-holding as a gesture of romance and not one of a possessive master, they might not see him as such a weakling.

Nandor was not helping the situation at all, though. There was no denying that he turned heads wherever he went – and many of those heads, belonging to women in particular, liked what they saw. Every time they passed by a woman giving him fluttery-eyes, Nandor would squeeze Guillermo’s hand almost painfully and paste on his best grimacy-grin, speaking through clenched teeth. “Yes, hello ladies. Guillermo and I are not a couple. He is just being an insolent familiar so I have to hold his hand. I will not have him running off into the dark again and getting eaten.”

Guillermo would usually come back with some lame response to that, adding in a few ‘ _Masters’_ here and there for good effect. Each woman at least had the brains to give them a wide berth after that. He technically wasn’t Nandor’s familiar anymore, despite Nandor’s reluctance to drop the title. But old habits die hard, and Guillermo found himself still taking on the role; though demanding quite a few more liberties now. It seemed like the most appropriate thing, though Guillermo was now wondering (not for the first time) why he hadn’t just left again to go live with his mother.

He knew why, of course. As much as he hated to admit it to himself.

“What do you want to look at, Guillermo?” Nandor asked, practically dragging his companion behind him as the shorter man struggled to keep up with his lengthy strides. “I saw a stall earlier that sold pooper-scoopers. Perhaps you would like one of those, for when you forget to drink the water again and make little messes in the bathroom?” A middle-aged woman walking with her children overheard and gasped in outrage. Guillermo felt his face redden and he pulled Nandor into the nearest pavilion, scowling.

As they pushed through the canvas flaps, they were met by the overwhelming, acrid stench of several types of incense burning. Nandor screwed his nose up and tried to wave the smoke away with a hand. Guillermo looked around the pavilion, taking in the wooden shelves of crystals and tinctures and other things that glinted in the low candlelight. Dreamcatchers made of crude wood and tattered feathers hung from the tent’s ceiling – ten dollars each. A small square table sat beside one of the shelves, surrounded by four wrought-iron chairs.

“I don’t like this,” Nandor muttered, his eyes teary from the smoke. “This stinks like witches.”

“Not a witch,” came a voice from behind the table, its owner shrouded in shadows. “But a wise woman.”

Guillermo had jumped at the voice; Nandor just said, “Yeeugh. Even worse.”

“A vampire, and a vampire slayer,” the slithering, feminine voice continued. “You two make quite the couple.”

It was only then that Guillermo and Nandor realised they were still holding hands. They flung their arms away from each other, Nandor shooting his familiar a disgusted look. “How do you know I’m a vampire?” he addressed the shadowy figure. “I mean. I’m not a vampire. That’s just sill—”

“Come, sit,” the voice interrupted.

Guillermo glanced at Nandor, then back at the womanly shape in the dark. He was suddenly curious. He’d never had his fortune told before. He wasn’t even sure what it entailed, exactly. He made his way to the table.

“Guillermo!” Nandor hissed. “Get back here. She’ll steal your semen!”

The voice laughed; it was smooth and tinkling. Very calming. “I told you, I am not a witch. I won’t take anything from you, Guillermo.”

“Witch!” Nandor snarled. “How did you know my familiar’s name?”

“You said it like three seconds ago, Master,” Guillermo muttered. He sat down at the table and took his glasses off briefly to rub his eyes. The incense mixed with Nandor’s stupidity were making them sting.

“Well, don’t come crying to me when she steals your seed!” Nandor said. He sounded hurt. Guillermo ignored him and stared into the shadows. A thin pale woman, probably in her forties, stared back. Flowing white locks, plump pink lips, a round face lined in fine wrinkles; she radiated a natural beauty and softness that Guillermo felt immediately drawn to.

He smiled at her. “So, can you read my future?” he asked, a little hesitantly.

She returned the smile, and it seemed to lift some of the shadows off her face. She leaned forward, her sky-blue eyes on Guillermo’s. “I think I can do better than that,” she whispered.

“ _Guillermo_ ,” Nandor hissed again.

Exasperated, Guillermo turned in his seat to face the vampire. “If you hadn’t embarrassed me in front of an entire crowd out there, we wouldn’t be in here,” he snapped, far more harshly than intended, so that when Nandor’s face dropped he actually felt a little guilty. “It’s just a bit of fun. Let me do this, okay?”

Nandor narrowed his eyes and deliberated a moment, then turned his back on them and shuffled to the far end of the tent. “I’ll just be over here, then,” he muttered sulkily, “looking at the…horny goat weeds.”

Guillermo turned back to the soothsayer and smiled shyly. “Sorry,” he said. “How much is a reading?”

The lady’s eyes flicked away from his, up to Nandor’s hunched silhouette, and then back again. She gave a little smirk. “This one is on the house,” she said kindly, and then she lowered her voice so that only Guillermo could hear. “If you don’t mind playing guinea pig for me.”

A chill went down Guillermo’s spine and he looked behind his shoulder to make sure Nandor was still there. The vampire was picking up bottles and putting them back. The soothsayer must have sensed his unease because she giggled. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing dangerous. But it might be a little…revealing.” She giggled again when she saw Guillermo’s cheeks turn red. She was careful to keep her voice low now; just for him. “I sense a lot of tension between you and the vampire,” she whispered. “And not only sexual tension. You have strong feelings for him.”

Guillermo’s face felt very hot now, and he hid an anxious smile. “Yes, well, it seems that’s a one-way street,” he muttered. “There are times when I think that _maybe_ he cares about me; even if on some platonic level. But then he just…covers it with insults and demands. Most of the time he’s just downright mean.” He frowned as that all-too familiar feeling of heartache coiled in his chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You’re not my therapist.” He chuckled uncomfortably.

“You love him,” the woman said decidedly.

Guillermo’s eyes widened and he flung his head around to make sure Nandor was still occupied. It was only then that he heard the vampire mumbling quietly to himself as he picked up handfuls of little gems and let them cascade back down into their box. He hadn’t overheard; or if he had, he was petulantly ignoring their conversation.

“I feel a strong desire in him,” the wise woman went on, not waiting for a response. “He lusts for you, but he is afraid.”

Guillermo’s face was positively on fire now. He swallowed hard. Surely this woman was making the whole thing up? He couldn’t once think of a time when Nandor displayed any kind of _lust_ for him. Still, some desperate part of him so badly wanted to find out more, to clutch onto anything she’d give him. “Afraid of what, exactly?”

The woman’s eyes seemed to darken a tad, and she leaned forward, her voice silky and deep. “Of getting too close.”


	2. Potion De Vérité

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guillermo asks for advice from husband and wife vampire
> 
> (Slightly edited & reposted, because my dumb ass forgot vampires don't have reflections)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes…this will be stretched into 3 chapters now. Probably no more than that. But I mean, that's what I said last time.
> 
> Also, just wanted to give a HUGE thank you to those who have been commenting on my works lately! I’ve been busy so I haven’t had the chance to reply to comments, but I really really appreciate them all <3

“You see,” the wise woman continued, “a human’s life is fleeting. Most vampires go through hundreds of familiars during their lifetimes.” Guillermo thought back to the amount of familiars Laszlo and Nadja had managed to kill off in one _week_ , and decided that number was probably not an exaggeration. “Familiars are not designed to be anything except servants; temporary and disposable, if you like.”

_I don’t like,_ Guillermo thought glumly. _But she’s right._

“Your vampire does not want to get too attached to you, because he does not want to deal with a broken heart, should anything happen to you. He may think he’s winning against his heart by acting hostile towards you, but judging by the aura he’s radiating, he is long past the point of not caring. He’s in far too deep now to be immune to heartache.” She winked at him, as if sharing an amusing secret.

“So he’s afraid of…of losing me?” Guillermo’s voice was barely a whisper. As ridiculous as it sounded, it also explained a lot of his persistently baffling behaviour; always swinging from platonic affection to disdain within the space of seconds.

“He’s afraid of giving you a place in his heart in case he does lose you,” the wise woman said thoughtfully. “So yes, in a way, he is. _But_ -“ she paused and jabbed up an index finger before standing and walking to one of the shelves, her mauve crinkled skirt sweeping the bare ground beneath her. Guillermo hazarded a glance behind his shoulder; Nandor was still at the other end of the pavilion, engulfed in shadows, but judging by the two black circles that occasionally caught the candlelight and gleamed, he was watching him. _It was only a matter of time before all the shiny trinkets lost their novelty_ , Guillermo thought, turning back to the table. In his periphery, the wise woman was handling a number of small vials, trying to decipher hand-scrawled labels.

“Did the witch take your semen yet, Guillermo?” Nandor called impatiently.

“Almost done,” the wise woman assured him with a smile. There was a tinkling as she returned the vials to their shelf – all but one – and came back to the table. She sat down and addressed Guillermo again in a low voice. “I’ve created this potion, but it’s still in the trial stage.” She handed the tiny brown vial to Guillermo. It was about the size of a baton of lipstick. “Once absorbed by the body, the recipient will be forced to speak from the heart. No lies. No pussyfooting. No hidden meanings.”

“Uh, wow,” Guillermo said, his voice full of poorly-concealed uncertainty. “Thing is, vampires can’t really digest anything except blood.”

“Oh, this isn’t a potion for drinking,” the woman assured him. “It’s a topical oil. And completely safe for vampires. He wouldn’t be the first of his kind to try it. With or without his knowledge.” She flashed him a knowing smile. Guillermo gulped. But then her smile dropped and she looked almost hesitant. “There have been…mixed results. The potion is harmless, of course, but not everybody who has tried it on their families or friends or significant others has been pleased with the outcome. Sometimes the truth is a difficult thing to swallow. Keep that in mind, Guillermo.”

Guillermo brought the vial close to his face and tried to read the label. It was a simple white sticker, on which the words _Potion De Vérité_ were hurriedly scrawled in thick black calligraphy. He reminded himself to learn basic French one day; apparently it was the language of choice when it came to the supernatural.

The wise woman watched him patiently as he pulled the stopper off the vial and gave its contents a sniff. He was expecting a nauseating **,** swampish smell, so was surprised when it gave off the pleasing aroma of vanilla, with a hint of cinnamon **.** He replaced the stopper and looked at the woman. “And you’re giving this to me…for free?”

“Provided you report back with your experience,” the wise woman replied, and she held up a finger, as if suddenly remembering something. She reached down beside her, and Guillermo only just now noticed a small bag hanging from her chair. She produced a little card and handed it to him with long, delicate fingers. “The potion will last around twelve hours. Make sure you use the whole bottle for maximum effect.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to get Nandor to use it?” Guillermo whispered.

The woman shrugged mildly and smiled. “Tell him it will increase his sex drive, or make women fall in love with him. He doesn’t seem like a very complex creature. I’m sure you can think of something.” She winked at him, and Guillermo grinned in spite of himself. But his hands were starting to tremble.

“I-it’s definitely not poison?” he blurted out, his anxiety getting the better of him. It was an utterly daft thing to say. If the woman wanted to poison Nandor for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to admit to it.

To his surprise, she laughed. “Only if you find out things you don’t want to know,” she quipped. “But no. As I said, completely safe. For vampires _and_ humans. Why would I want to kill my customers? If these trials go well, I know some very wealthy individuals who would pay a pretty penny for a little dram of that.” She nodded at the vial and stretched her lips back in a grin.

“Are you done yet, Guillermo?” Nandor called with a huff. He was hunched over, his arms swinging limply at his sides, looking every bit a giant, pouty toddler who had been kept waiting by his mother for far too long.

“Yes, Nandor,” Guillermo said placatingly, and quickly pocketed the vial.

“My number is on the card,” the woman said quietly, nodding to the off-white square in Guillermo’s hand. “After the ointment wears off, give me a call and tell me what happened.”

“Thank you—” Guillermo realised he hadn’t caught her name. He glanced down at the card, then back up again with a smile. “Florina.”

Nandor was out of the tent in a heartbeat. Guillermo followed close behind, feeling the first formations of nervousness tingle from his toes up into his stomach. He absent-mindedly fidgeted with the vial in his pocket, running his fingers over its polished surface.

“There you are!” Laszlo’s voice came out of nowhere, making Guillermo jump. Nandor glared at his familiar a moment, then they both watched the vampire couple approach. Laszlo’s and Nadja’s mouths were ringed with wet crimson.

Nadja grimaced, baring fangs that were stained red. “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

Nandor pouted. “It’s Guillermo’s fault! He wanted to get his future read by a witch.”

“She’s not a witch,” Guillermo said quietly. “She’s a wise woman.”

“Ah!” Laszlo said, hitching his thumbs in his belt. “Wise women are a different breed altogether. At least they don’t steal semen.”

Guillermo gave Nandor a pointed look, but the vampire’s face just got poutier.

Laszlo tried to peek into the tent from where they stood. “It’s not Florina, is it?”

“Yes…why?” Guillermo gritted his teeth.

“Great lady,” Laszlo replied, much to Guillermo’s relief. “Sells some amazing oils. Vampire-friendly. Want to increase your sex drive? Have ladies – _and_ chaps – lift their skirts and drop their slacks for you? She is the woman to see.” He winked. “In fact, I might just go say hello—” He took a step forward, but Nadja’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the sleeve of his coat.

“No, you won’t!” she hissed viciously, and tugged him fiercely towards her. Her voice was gentler when she spoke again. “We are going home. Come, darling.”

“Oh,” Nandor piped up. “Guillermo will drive you. He will need somebody to hold his hand. He keeps running off into the dark—”

“I’m a grown man, I _don’t_ —”

“—And I still need to hunt.”

Both Nadja and Laszlo grimaced, and blurted out a flurry of words in unison. “Well I’m not holding his hand.” “You think I want to touch human sweat?” “You were practically licking up human sweat feeding on that jogger, dear.” “That’s different! That was not Gizmo’s sweat!”

“Bat!” Nandor shouted, and a second later a tiny, flappy black critter took his place. He flew away without a squeak. There were a number of surprised gasps and cries from around them. A few people clapped. Laszlo groaned.

“Come, Gizmo,” he said, his voice strained as if he were faced with some dreadful task. “We will escort you to the carriage. But I am _not_ holding your hand. If you run off and get eaten, that’s on you, not us.”

“Yes,” Nadja agreed enthusiastically. “We will tell Nandor that you burned us with holy water in your desperate attempt to get away.”

He was so used to this that Guillermo couldn’t even roll his eyes. They took the boardwalk to the carpark, strolling at a leisurely pace, which gave him plenty of time to build up a giant snowball of worry and doubt and achy yearning. Once in the car, he put the keys into the ignition and sat back, taking a deep breath. Laszlo and Nadja had taken the back seats, choosing each other’s company over the lowly-familiar-slash-frightening-vampire-slayer’s.

“All right, Gizmo?” Laszlo said expectantly. “Are you going to start the carriage or do we have to sit here all night smelling your virgin blood?”

“Oh, I’m not sure I could stay in an enclosed space with him for that long,” Nadja whispered, just loudly enough for Guillermo to hear.

Guillermo sighed. “Laszlo? If you wanted to know for sure that Nadja loved you--”

“Why, I _know_ she loves me,” Laszlo said with confidence. Nadja cooed beside him.

“Okay, yes, that’s obviously true,” Guillermo said in his most appeasing voice. “But hypothetically speaking—”

“I don’t know why levels of patheticness have anything to do with this.” Laszlo sounded a little agitated.

“No, no, darling. _Hypothetically_ ,” Nadja corrected.

Laszlo was silent for a moment, his brow furrowed, but he piped up a second later. “Oh! Yes. Go on, Gizmo.”

Guillermo rolled his eyes. “That’s what I sa—nevermind.” He twisted in his seat to look at them. “Hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to know _for sure_ that Nadja loved you, would you give her a truth potion from a weird pagan you found at the markets? Would you trust her?” The longer he spoke, the more his words trailed down to a quiet mumble.

There was a tense silence. Laszlo was looking at him with his usual confused grimace, nose screwed up, mouth open a little. Nadja showed her clenched teeth.

“Did she give you a truth potion, Gizmo?” Laszlo asked finally.

“And you want to use it on _me_?” Nadja cackled loudly, startling both men. “Oh, Gill-ermo. You don’t need to waste a truth potion on that. I can tell you now that I definitely, one-hundred-and-fifty-percent do not—”

“Not _you_ ,” Guillermo bit out, exasperated. He twisted back around and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “ _Nandor_.” Eyes open again, he held his breath, waiting for their reactions. When they didn’t say anything, he hesitantly twisted back around to look at them. Nadja didn’t seem all that concerned, but Laszlo’s face had broken out in a grin. He rubbed his hands together.

“Yes,” he said eagerly. “Yes, I absolutely would. And you should, too. Provided you allow us to watch.”

“Really, Laszlo?” Nadja’s face distorted in disgust. “I think you will be disappointed, Gizmo.” Her voice held just a touch of sympathy. “Most of Nandor’s head is empty space. The rest is useless memories of battles and boogying. I don’t think you will find much else.”

“Well, then there’s no harm in it, is there?” Laszlo said. “Show me the potion, Gizmo.”

Guillermo fetched it from his pocket and reached back to hand it to him. Laszlo looked the little bottle over and squinted at the writing on the label. “ _Potion De Vérité,”_ he said in a surprisingly accurate French accent. “Truth potion. Huh. I suppose Florina’s imagination is confined to the bedroom.” He chuckled at his joke, then handed the vial back. Nadja hissed and crossed her arms grumpily.

Guillermo pocketed it again. “You don’t think it’s poison?”

“I’ve known Florina for a good fifteen, twenty years, and I’m still here. With a ramping sex drive to boot.” He winked at his wife.

“Guillermo, will you start this bloody carriage already?” Nadja huffed.

Guillermo obliged and turned the ignition. **  
**


	3. Everlong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guillermo discovers that the potion does a little bit more than just bring out the truth. And Nandor divulges a deep, dark secret: he is ticklish.
> 
> Oh, and there's a foot massage and stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow…this turned out way deeper (and longer) than I expected. I hope you enjoy it, though! Thank you all so, so much for the comments and kudos!! <33  
> (the characters are a little OOC in this chapter…but for good reason).
> 
> CW: Brief mention of a spider (named after a spider from an old story of mine, whose owner just happened to be an ancient vampire)

_Breathe out_  
_So I can breathe you in_  
_Hold you in_

  
_And now_  
_I know you've always been_  
_Out of your head_  
_Out of my head I sang_

-Everlong, Foo Fighters

****************************

Nandor wasn’t home by the time they reached the house. Guillermo felt both relieved and disappointed. Laszlo was being unusually chummy, hanging by Guillermo’s side, striking up the occasional random (and usually lewd) conversation. They were in Nandor’s room, and Guillermo had spent the past ten minutes trying to think of a way to get rid of him before his ex-master got home. Laszlo had taken up the chaise, resting his feet on the cushioned seat. Guillermo kept himself busy by adjusting the various ornaments that embellished the ancient warrior’s room and arbitrarily dusting already-clean surfaces. He was polishing Nandor’s coffin to a sheen with a soft cloth when Laszlo said, “Do you really love him? I mean, it’s always been obvious that you admire him, but _love_?”

Guillermo chose to ignore him, which prompted a speculative “huh” from the vampire.

The door slammed open just then. Guillermo almost shrieked. Nandor lumbered into the room, his footsteps loud and heavy. Dried blood stained either side of his chin in two long streaks, like macabre tattoos. His beard was flecked with black globs. “Laszlo, what are you doing in here?” he grumbled.

“Just helping Gizmo polish some swords,” Laszlo replied casually, and sent the human a wink. “Isn’t that right?”

Guillermo squeezed his eyes shut with a stifled moan. He could tell he was being glared at by a certain tall, dark and sulking vampire.

“Well the swords look very shiny now, thank you,” Nandor said sardonically. “Now, please leave. I drank depressed blood and I would like Guillermo to tuck me in early tonight.”

“All right, chap.” Laszlo hopped to his feet and headed for the door. He beckoned to Guillermo with one finger as he passed. Guillermo sighed and dropped the cloth onto the coffin lid before reluctantly following. At the room’s threshold, Laszlo drooped his head towards Guillermo and spoke quietly. “This is the perfect time to do it,” he mumbled.

Guillermo blinked at him. “While he’s asleep? I’m not sure—”

“ _No_! While he’s depressed. The man tends to open up more when he’s wallowing in self-pity.” He gestured vaguely towards Nandor, who was glowering at them with a drowsy mistrust. “Keep him awake. Offer him a massage.” He wiggled his eyebrows and Guillermo gawked.

“Laszlo!” Nandor yelled. “Go away! I’m tired and irritable!” He struggled getting the last word out, his tongue stumbling over it and subsequently butchering it.

Laszlo gave a little conciliating bow. “Sleep tight, friend.” And then he was gone, Guillermo shutting the door softly behind him. He didn’t turn around straight away, instead pressing his forehead against the polished wood and closing his eyes.

“Guillermo?” Nandor called warily after a moment’s silence. “Did Laszlo try to seduce you?”

“What!?” Guillermo spun around, eyes widening. But then he laughed, an involuntary reaction to his peaking anxiety. He shook his head. “No, no. He was just prying.”

“Prying what?” Nandor asked curiously. “And don’t just stand there gaping like one of those puffy fish. Help me with my cape.”

Guillermo rushed forward and began the nightly ritual of helping Nandor out of his many layers of clothing, all the while reminding himself that he was _not_ a familiar. The vampire was quiet; if Guillermo didn’t know any better, he appeared to be lost in thought. Once he was stripped down to his boots and underclothes – cropped tan breeches and white blouse – Guillermo left to get a warm bowl of water and a washcloth. When he returned, he placed them gently on the vampire’s vanity and stepped back. Nandor wet the cloth and dabbed around his mouth, bringing away streaks of red.

“Should have not drunk anything tonight,” he stewed as he used the soaked cloth to sluice the blood from his beard. “Did I get it all, Guillermo?” He turned to face his familiar, revealing a large splotch of blood in the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, you still have a little bit there—” Guillermo pointed. “On the left. _Your_ left. No – right in the corner—almost---it’s just there… _give that here_.” He snatched the cloth from him, spraying droplets of pink water everywhere in the process. He rinsed out the blood and wrung the cloth, then stood on his tiptoes to gently wipe at the missed spot. Nandor stood perfectly still, as imposing as a statue, face blank and eyes pointed ahead. This was nothing new; Nandor was a messy eater and Guillermo had cleaned the blood from his lips and beard countless times in the past. But tonight, the act made his stomach flutter sickeningly.

He stepped back and tossed the cloth into the bowl, then reached a shaky hand into his pocket. “I got something for you, Nandor,” he said softly, then instantly hoped the vampire hadn’t heard him. He had, of course.

Nandor came back to life all of a sudden and turned to his familiar expectantly. “Something from the markets?”

“Yes. Maybe it will make you feel a little better.” His voice came out in a rushed squeak, and Guillermo tried to hide its skittery quality with a forced smile. He reached both hands into his pocket and covertly tore the sticker off the vial before bringing it into the open. No doubt Nandor noticed his hand visibly shaking, and Guillermo absently wondered what his master made of that. Was this wrong? Tricking Nandor like this? He couldn’t possibly tell him the real purpose of the oil; there was no way the vampire would agree to such a thing.

He was still struggling with the moral weight of this tiny vial when Nandor snatched it from his fingers. Guillermo made to grab for it, but Nandor was already turning around, as if anticipating his familiar’s next move.

“What is this?” he asked, lifting it to the light.

“It’s a…uh…” Every lie that had come to Guillermo during his scheming were suddenly absent from memory. “An oil…that…”

“Oil?” Nandor turned to look at him. “Is it for my hair?”

“No!” Guillermo said in a rush. “It’s for your skin. It has to go on your skin. I mean…it’s…uh…”

“Is it massage oil, Guillermo? Are you offering me a massage?” His face was unreadable, but his voice was curious. “There is not enough oil in here for a massage! Are you planning on massaging my one arm, or a leg?” He had an epiphany then, and his lips stretched in a sly grin. “ _Unless_ …”

_Oh my god, he thinks it’s dick oil_ , Guillermo thought in dismay, his cheeks suddenly on fire.

“…It’s for my feet!” Nandor finished. He gave a clap, suddenly in a better mood. “Well, usually I do not like being touched, but I did do a _lot_ of walking tonight and my feet are aching. So, I will allow it. Just this once.”

Guillermo wasn’t sure if foot oil was a step above or below dick oil. He groaned inwardly. “Actually, Ma—I mean, Nandor – it’s not—”

“This was a very nice thought, Guillermo,” Nandor interrupted, wiggling the vial in front of his face. “Come, take off my boots for me.” Without another word, the vampire made his way to the chaise and sat down, stretching out his legs so that only the heels of his boots touched the floor. Guillermo swallowed hard as he took in the sight of his master – _no, not master anymore, not really,_ he had to remind himself. Nandor’s blouse was loose and gauzy, so Guillermo could just make out the pale bronze of his skin underneath, and the dark hair that trailed up his chest and peeked out in curls above the plunging V of his collar. He’d craned his head back to lay it atop the chaise’s backrest, his eyes closed, his face devoid of expression. There were dark rings beneath his eyes, and Guillermo spied a tiny, overlooked fleck of blood on his earlobe. Yes, he was a messy eater. But he also looked absolutely _delicious_.

“Hurry up, Guillermo,” Nandor whined without opening his eyes.

Guillermo, suddenly snapped out of his ogling, said in a rush, “Let me just find some gloves—”

“Gloves?” Nandor hissed, snapping his eyes open. “You don’t need gloves. Do you think my feet are bad?”

“No, Nandor! I just…” _don’t want to absorb the oil myself_. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t dare say them. That would take extra explaining, and he wasn’t sure he’d sound all that convincing. He sighed. He was an honest man. He had nothing to hide, right? If the oil got onto his hands and seeped into his skin, there wasn’t anything he could blurt out that Nandor hadn’t heard before. _Except that I am head over heels in love with him…_

“What is wrong with my feet, Guillermo? I keep them thoroughly clean. Are they ugly?” Nandor sounded very self-conscious.

Guillermo rolled his eyes in spite of himself. “No. There’s nothing wrong with your _feet_. Here…” and he walked to the chaise and knelt before the vampire, ever the dutiful servant. He pulled Nandor’s boots off, working diligently, having done this a thousand times before. The foot massage was a new thing, though. In fact, Guillermo wasn’t sure he’d ever given _anyone_ a foot massage.

Guillermo felt way out of his depth, and not only because he was about to rub an ointment into his master’s skin that would force the vampire to reveal his heart’s desire; in the eleven years he’d worked for Nandor, he couldn’t remember ever giving him a massage. Nandor flexed his toes expectantly once they were free, and Guillermo could feel his eyes on him. He was too nervous to meet them.

He opened the stopper on the vial and carefully poured half the oil onto the top of Nandor’s left foot. He wanted to avoid touching the stuff as much as possible, as difficult as that would be. It came out like syrup; a deep caramel colour. But when Guillermo finally ran his fingers through it, he was surprised to find that it wasn’t sticky at all. In fact, it had a similar consistency to baby oil. Warily, he began to slide and swirl his fingers around the stop of Nandor’s foot, using both hands, surprised by the silkiness of his skin. From his periphery he saw Nandor crane his head back again, and heard him exhale through his nose, as if he were utterly spent after being out for a whole of three hours.

Now that the top of Nandor’s foot was fairly slick, Guillermo slid his hands down to rub the sole with his palms. It only occurred to Guillermo now that Florina hadn’t mentioned how long the oil would take to work. How quickly did the skin absorb ointments? He racked his brains for some kind of knowledge on the subject, but came up short. He decided it would have to be fairly quick. A few minutes, maybe?

As he pondered over it, he unconsciously ran his fingers across the arch of Nandor’s foot, and the vampire visibly jerked, letting loose a soft grunt. Guillermo flung his hands away and looked up at him, but his eyes were still closed, his face soft.

“I-is everything okay?” Guillermo asked.

“Mmm,” Nandor replied drowsily. “Guillermo. I have never told anybody this, and it shames me to say it. But I am a little ticklish.”

Guillermo stifled a giggle and went back to work, kneading his thumbs over the ball of Nandor’s foot. His hands were beginning to tingle, and he felt a little light-headed. He tried to ignore the sudden burst of panic in his chest. Was the oil already working? Would he be aware of what he was saying, if he blurted out some embarrassing truth? What if Florina was wrong, and it only worked on _humans_?

_Maybe this wasn’t a great idea after all._ He bit his lip, but tried to keep his hands steady as he firmly ran his palms up Nandor’s foot, from heel to toe. He parted his toes with his fingers and the vampire writhed again, letting out a snort that sounded suspiciously like stifled laughter.

“Sorry,” Guillermo said meekly, and decided to start on the other foot. He felt thoroughly spaced out. The apprehension that had plagued him half the night was now starting to melt away; he could almost feel it sweeping over his body and dissolving in the air. He was acutely aware of the strong scent of vanilla and cinnamon. The candlelight seemed brighter. As he massaged Nandor’s right foot, his fingers keenly felt each ridge and hill and dip. The roughness of his heel was like sandpaper, the skin of his ankle like velvet stretched over bone. He noticed that Nandor was particularly ticklish behind his ankles, jolting each time one of Guillermo’s fingers brushed over that spot (Guillermo did it a few times on purpose to torment him, secretly delighting in the vampire’s autonomic reaction).

His head swam but he felt warm and fuzzy and safe; as though he were lounging on a pile of soft feather pillows beneath a smiling sun with a cool breeze caressing his cheeks and neck – instead of stuck on his knees on the hard floor, arms aching as he avidly rubbed the foot of a domineering vampire,

“Guillermo,” Nandor murmured, and the silky way in which he said his name made Guillermo’s heart jump into his throat. “This feels very good.”

“Thank you, Master,” Guillermo said breathlessly, not picking up on the misnomer until after he’d spoken. He didn’t bother correcting himself; he was too busy trying to keep up with the spinning room.

“Guillermo?” Nandor said again, from somewhere far away. “The ceiling is looking at me. Were there drugs in that massage oil?”

Sweat broke out on Guillermo’s forehead all of a sudden, but then his insides began to tickle, and he broke out in laughter. His hands slid away from Nandor’s foot and he doubled over, his forehead touching his ex-master’s knee as he giggled maniacally. “I…think there was,” he gasped, hugging his sides.

Nandor’s knee began to jiggle and Guillermo shuffled back, almost flopping over in the process. He looked up in surprise as Nandor’s chuckling turned into laughter, and a second later he was laughing again, too. Guillermo tried to clamber to his feet, but the room was suddenly moving. It abruptly tilted forward and he was flung towards the chaise. He cried out and reached for Nandor, clutching at the collar of the vampire’s blouse as he tried to steady himself. He was hardly aware of Nandor’s amused but demanding voice. He was still breathless from laughing. The room shifted again, and Guillermo was forced back, pulling Nandor with him. They both collapsed to the floor in fits of laughter.

Above them, the ceiling looked down approvingly. Two huge, brown eyes framed in thick black lashes sparkled with mischief in the candlelight. The rest of the ceiling danced with the silhouettes of unrecognisable things. Over in the corner, a pair of thin lips manifested and smiled at them. Guillermo thought this was hilarious, and he all but shrieked with laughter, completely unaware of anything except the sound of his voice and the smiling ceiling.

“Guillermo,” Nandor drawled, his voice hoarse. “You spiked…my feet.”

They both burst out in fresh peals of laughter at that. Tears streamed down Guillermo’s cheeks as he tried to get himself together, at least as much as their current predicament would allow. He was vaguely aware that he was laying on his side, his head resting in the dip between Nandor’s hip and ribcage.

The door burst open just then, and in Guillermo’s ears it was deafening; he wasn’t surprised that the sound made Nandor wince.

“What the blazes is going on in here?” Laszlo demanded, strolling in.

Nandor groaned and Guillermo felt the vibrations of it travel beneath his head. He considered moving; they were currently making a ‘T’ – Guillermo being the body, Nandor being the arms – but Guillermo’s head felt like it weighed a tonne, and Nandor was in no hurry to push him away.

“Guillermo gave us drugs,” he slurred.

Guillermo grasped for an explanation that was just out of reach. “I didn’t know there were drugs—"

“It was a truth potion, Guillermo!” Nandor chided. “Of course there were drugs in it!”

Guillermo scowled, stifling a groan. When had he confessed to the potion’s real purpose?

“ _Potion De Vérité_ ,” Laszlo said with a genial dip of the head. “Contains a strong hallucinogen.”

“See?” Nandor pointed at Laszlo, then at Guillermo, whose head was beginning to loll away from his waist and towards the vampire’s crotch. “Hallo-sin-gin! That means drugs!”

Guillermo willed his body to move before he became buried in Nandor’s nether-regions, and the thought of that paired with Nandor’s terrible pronunciation sent him on another giggling fit.

“What!?” Nandor snarled half-heartedly, and he pushed Guillermo to the floor, where the man rolled onto his back and shrieked with glee. Nandor soon joined in; a deep, steady crescendo of laughter rolling from his chest that eventuated into hiccups. That just spurred Guillermo on.

Laszlo rolled his eyes.

“Darling, what is going on in there?” Nadja called from somewhere outside.

“Our boys are off their tits on drugs,” her husband replied nonchalantly.

Nadja surfaced from behind her husband in the doorway, her lips drawn back in a half-bemused snarl. Her hair appeared to be coiffed in a bun that stretched all the way to the doorframe and beyond, and Guillermo lost it once more, pointing and gasping and sniffling at Nadja’s huge hair.

The vampire smiled hesitantly. “Wow,” she droned. “They look like they’re having a good time. Is there any of that oil left?”

“Oh believe me, sweetheart, you don’t want what they’re having,” Laszlo assured her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gently nudged her out of the doorway. Nadja disappeared from sight, but Laszlo lingered, as if deliberating whether or not to stay and enjoy the show.

Nandor chose for him. “Go away, _Laszlo_ ,” he snarled. “Vampire-familiar hallo-sinations only!”

Laszlo frowned and grumbled at that, shutting the door loudly behind him as he left. But Guillermo’s heart swelled at his ex-master’s words. Usually it was _he_ who was excluded from various vampiric interactions. He lifted his head off the floor, as heavy as it was, and managed to shuffle around so he lay abreast of Nandor, at a considerable distance. He willed his spaced-out brain to focus in on him.

Nandor was laying on his side, breathing heavily – likely a residual habit from the exertion on his once-human lungs. His head was drooped against the floor, his face partly concealed by a curtain of tousled hair, but Guillermo still saw the wetness on his cheeks. Every so often Nandor’s body would spasm with leftover hilarity, and that would make Guillermo giggle, and then Nandor would giggle back, and they’d both end up a shaking, spasming mess again before calming back down and watching each other quietly.

It felt like they stayed that way for hours, just staring half-consciously at each other, but the candles were still burning bright when Nandor finally tore his eyes away and rolled onto his back, his tangled hair fanned out on the floor around his head.

“Is the ceiling still watching us?” he mumbled thickly. He had his eyes closed.

Guillermo didn’t want to look, lest he start laughing again. His head had suddenly lost all weight and was drifting in the clouds, attached to nothing but the tiny string that was his neck. He forced himself to roll onto his back, and then let out a hair-raising scream. Stretched out across half the ceiling was a hairy, black _goliath_ of a tarantula. Eight beady black eyes reflected the room as it stared down at them.

Nandor opened his eyes but his expression didn’t change; he was seemingly unaffected by their new hallucinatory visitor. “Oh, that’s just Mildred,” he slurred, waving a hand dismissively.

Mildred suddenly dissolved and was replaced by the head of a giant yellow Labrador puppy. It floated in the air, smiling, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth. Cords of slobber dangled down from that thick, pink tongue, threatening to smother them, but Guillermo cocked his head to the side in adoration.

“Aww!” he cooed. “Who’s a good boy?”

“Guillermo’s a good boy!” the dog seemed to reply. Guillermo raised an eyebrow, but then he realised the voice had come from Nandor.

“Huh?” he slurred.

“You’re a good familiar,” Nandor said earnestly, meeting his eyes. “So innocent. So pure. Like that giant disembodied puppy head.”

They held each other’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity…and then burst out laughing again. Guillermo sagged over, his chest aching, his vision blurring. He rolled into the fetal position, gasping for air between giggles.

“What is this potion _doing_ to us, Guillermo?” Nandor whined.

“If I ask you…a question…you will only tell the truth,” he tried to explain.

Nandor cleared his throat in an attempt to suppress his own laughter. “And if I ask _you_ something?”

Guillermo had finally gotten his breath back. The room seemed to spin a little slower now. “I can only tell the truth,” he breathed. And the gravity of the situation suddenly hit him. Here they were, sprawled out on the floor of Nandor’s crypt, tripping some major balls and utterly incapable of lying or even dismissing a question.

“I should give you _three_ demerit points for this,” Nandor said half-heartedly.

“I’m technically not your familiar anymore,” Guillermo retorted. He pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the edge of the chaise’s seat for stability.

Nandor copied his movements and ended up beside him. He rested his head on the cushioning of the chair and glowered at the man. “But you still want to be a vampire,” he said, and poked a finger at Guillermo’s chest. “And that will be. Three. More. Years.” He punctuated each word with a poke.

Guillermo shrugged him off. “Well maybe I don’t want to be a vampire anymore,” he said shortly.

Nandor narrowed his eyes. “Do you?”

“Yes. More than anything.” Guillermo groaned and dropped his head to the cushion, squishing his glasses painfully against the bridge of his nose.

“Ha!” Nandor said, pointing at him. “You have to tell the truth!” He spoke as if he’d only just remembered the fact.

“Will you ever turn me into a vampire?” Guillermo shot back, then instantly regretted it. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“I have not decided yet.” Nandor drew out his words triumphantly, knowing that it wasn’t the straightforward answer his ex-familiar desired. But it _was_ the truth.

Guillermo frowned, and the next question shot out of his mouth like a rebounding bullet. “What’s keeping you from turning me, then?”

Nandor clenched his teeth in an attempt to keep the words from tumbling out, but in the end the spell forced them open. “I…don’t…want…you…to…leave…me.” He fought the words the entire way, his voice strained. Guillermo giggled at his efforts to bottle up, but this time Nandor didn’t join him. It seemed the high was wearing off finally. The room had almost stopped moving, and the light wasn’t so bright anymore.

Guillermo was acutely aware of how close his hand was to touching Nandor’s, both draped over the chair’s cushioned seat as they rested their heads against it. He wanted so much to reach out and lightly touch it, but instead he thought of his next question. “Why don’t you--”

“No!” Nandor interrupted, perking up. “It’s my turn to ask a question! Was Laszlo really helping you polish my swords earlier, or was he seducing you?”

“Neither. He wanted to hang around and see how the potion affected you,” Guillermo said, and then he narrowed his eyes, smirking, like a hunter who had just caught sight of his prey. “Why? Were you jealous?”

Nandor pulled his lips back in a grimace. “Yyy-es,” he strained. “Fuck you, Guillermo. Fucking guy!” He sluggishly slapped the seat in what Guillermo guessed was meant to be a display of anger. But they were still riding out the tails of the high, and their movements were languid. Nandor pointed a finger at Guillermo’s chest half-heartedly. “Have you ever thought about killing me?”

“Yes,” Guillermo said, briefly revelling in the look of outrage that suddenly puckered Nandor’s face. “Intrusive thoughts, though. I’d never do it, of course. Have you ever thought about killing _me_?”

“I’ve thought about draining you countless times, yes,” Nandor mumbled, his voice somewhat slurred again. “Not intrusive thoughts, though. Fantasies.”

“And would you do it?” Guillermo’s heart leapt into his chest. He was digging too deep, he knew. Sooner or later something ugly would rear its head. But the one question he _really_ wanted to ask was still stuck at the back of his throat, refusing to come forward.

“No,” Nandor replied, and then frowned. “Well, I would try not to. I don’t want to. But sometimes I don’t have control.”

“Is that why you’re afraid of turning me?” Guillermo pressed. “You’re afraid of…losing control…and not being able to bring me back?”

“Mmm,” Nandor hummed. He regarded his ex-familiar with hooded eyes; he looked sleepy, exhausted after their ludicrous trip. “And if you survive, you will leave me. I haven’t been a good master to you.” His voice was barely comprehensible by the time he finished the sentence. Guillermo suddenly felt terrible; Nandor must have felt extremely uncomfortable, being forced to confess these things, to unwillingly wear his heart on his sleeve like this.

The vampire must have seen something change in his face, or somehow read his mind. His next words struck Guillermo like a jolt of static. “I heard your conversation with the witch,” he muttered. “I knew what I was getting into…”

“Y-you heard the whole thing?”

Nandor grinned lazily. “I’m a fucking vampire, Guillermo,” he droned. “I could have heard you from the other side of the markets if I wanted to. Your witch friend _knew_ I was listening.”

Guillermo could scarcely believe it. “Why didn’t you say anything? And _why_ did you go along with it anyway?” he cried.

Nandor shrugged in an attempt to placate him. “I wanted to see if you’d go through with it. And I wanted a nice foot massage.” He wiggled his toes and smiled again, the sides of his eyes crinkling. But it quickly faded back to neutrality. “I also thought…it would be a good chance to…to get things out in the open. Things that are otherwise difficult to say.”

Guillermo raised his eyebrows. This didn’t sound like Nandor at all. Then again, the vampire _was_ being forced to speak his mind.

With that in mind, Guillermo gathered up his wits to decide on his next move.

Guillermo couldn’t remember moving to the chaise, but somehow he was now sitting on it, with Nandor’s head cradled in his lap. The vampire lay supine, staring at the ceiling, his pupils dilated. He was humming some kind of catchy tune. It sounded familiar, but Guillermo couldn’t place it.

“What are you humming?” he asked drowsily.

“I don’t remember,” Nandor replied, matching his weary tone. “Gee Bees or something.” Guillermo humphed but said no more. Nandor spoke again. “At the markets, the witch said that you lo—looo---that you loved me. And you didn’t say no.”

_Oh no_ , Guillermo thought in dismay. He’d been waiting for this, ever since Nandor told him that he’d overheard their conversation. _It’s okay,_ he told himself, _he hasn’t asked a question, so it doesn’t warrant a reply._

Nandor gazed searchingly into his ex-familiar’s eyes. “Do you?” he asked in a low voice.

Guillermo blanched. _Uh oh,_ he thought, as his stomach began to churn and his throat muscles expanded with air. _Here comes the word vomit_. He wanted to flee the room before he had the chance to open his mouth, but Nandor’s head was a heavy weight in his lap. So instead, he tried his hardest to keep the words in. But eventually it became too much, and they came tumbling out, almost tangible things that hit Nandor directly in the face, causing the vampire to flinch. “Yes. I do. More than anything. I admire you and adore you and I’d do _anything_ for you. Anything you ask. It’s not just the prospect of becoming a vampire that has kept me by your side all these years, Nandor. You mean _everything_ —”

“ _Okay_ , Guillermo,” Nandor interrupted uncomfortably. “I get it. Yeesh.”

It was only then that Guillermo noticed the placement of his hands. One rested lightly on Nandor’s hairline, his thumb grazing the top of Nandor’s forehead. The other sat limply on his chest, just below the V of his collar. Guillermo was sure his face would reach boiling point soon and explode. His heart was thundering in his chest and he felt queasy. He almost flung his hands away, but Nandor hadn’t admonished him for his proximity yet, so he decided to keep them where they were and take comfort in the coolness of the vampire’s skin.

The physical contact spurred Guillermo to the point of no return. It was now or never, and he needed to know one last thing; the thing he had been working up towards all night. “Do you…love me?” His voice was barely audible in his ears. No doubt Nandor heard it loud and clear, though, because he immediately stiffened. His eyes never left Guillermo’s, though, and there was an earnestness in them that rattled the man. _This potion is certainly potent_ , he thought absent-mindedly, and then he waited with bated breath.

All sorts of extremely subtle emotions seemed to pass over Nandor’s face, until he settled on something that looked a little like chagrin. “I am not sure I even know what love means,” he said carefully. “Do I like you, Guillermo? Yes, I do. I know I am often demanding and degrading of you and make you do things you don’t enjoy, but I get no enjoyment from it myself.” His voice suddenly took on a wistful tone. He was staring up past Guillermo’s head now, past the ceiling, lost in thought. “The witch was right. I am afraid of getting close to you, because I know things do not last forever, and one day I will need to say goodbye.”

Guillermo’s throat constricted at that, and he blinked back an unexpected swell of tears.

Nandor went on. “You are still young. A spring duckling. I am over seven hundred years old, Guillermo. Do you want to be with me for seven hundred more? No, don’t answer that. Of course you don’t want to be. If I turned you into a vampire, you would grow tired of me quickly, after a hundred years or two.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Have I thought about it? Of making you a vampire and claiming you as my lover? Yes; always. Before you moved into the big room with the door, I would sometimes hover over you in the dark and watch you sleep. Think about drinking your delicious blood and making you one of us. Making you _mine_. Does that sound like love, Guillermo?”

“I-I don’t know,” Guillermo choked out. Tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed in Nandor’s beard, on his lips, beside his nose. He sniffled.

“You’re getting my face all wet, Guillermo,” the vampire complained mildly.

“Sorry,” Guillermo whispered. He wiped at his eyes with the heels of his palms, then gingerly used the soft cuff of his sleeve to wipe away the droplets on Nandor’s face. The vampire watched him calmly but expectantly, prompting him to speak up again when he was done dabbing the tears away. “Losing people, relationships, _things_ ; that’s just part of normal life,” he said, and was surprised at how steady his voice sounded. “Is it scary? Yes. Is it painful? Terribly. But what’s the point of living if you have nothing worth treasuring? If you shut everyone and everything out and lock yourself away and never truly _live_?”

“It’s not like I really have a choice,” Nandor grumbled. “I am dead, after all.”

Guillermo shifted in his seat, forcing Nandor to sit up and face him. He surprised himself by leaning forward and gently cupping the vampire’s stubbly jaw in his hands. “You do have a choice, Nandor. We could make it work; or at least _try_ to. We could be together; be _happier_ together. Even if you never turn me into a vampire. Even if you have to watch me grow old and wrinkly and eventually die – isn’t it better to have had each other – to have had this love even for a little while, than never at all?”

Nandor made a noise that was somewhere between a speculative hum and a moan. “You make a compelling point, Guillermo,” he said at length. He glanced down at one of Guillermo’s hands, still holding his jaw, and the man quickly dropped them.

“So let’s try, then,” he whispered, feeling a blush creep back into his cheeks. “We both have feelings for each other—” _as deeply buried as they may be_ , he added in his head, “—so why not act on them?” He could scarcely believe he was saying all this, and being calm about it, no less. He placed a gentle hand on one of Nandor’s, praying that the vampire would allow him this little comfort.

Nandor looked surprised but didn’t flinch. And suddenly Guillermo saw a depth in his eyes that he had never seen before. His face may have been an impassive mask, but his eyes revealed to him everything he wanted to know. Guillermo stupidly began to cry again. He cursed quietly in Spanish.

“Come here,” Nandor said gently, and he cautiously lifted his arms in a beckoning gesture. “I don’t want this potion to have you speaking in tongues.”

Guillermo let out a single laugh and nestled against Nandor’s chest. A blissful warmth spread out from his heart to the very reaches of his fingers and toes. He felt the weight of two bearish arms around him, and he nuzzled further into Nandor’s embrace, secretly delighting in the tickle of exposed chest hair against his cheek.

“We can try,” the vampire said softly, though it was more a supposition than a statement. He leaned his chin against the top of Guillermo’s head and sighed. “Guillermo?”

“Yes?”

“You’re getting my nightclothes all wet.”

Guillermo beamed, full of adoration and satisfaction and apprehension, and a happiness that he was not sure he’d ever felt before. “Sorry,” he said, and wiped his eyes, which were rapidly growing heavy. He closed them and sighed against Nandor’s uncovered chest, smiling again when he felt a little shiver crawl up the vampire’s body.

Guillermo must have fallen asleep not long after their talk, though he couldn’t remember ever drifting off. He awoke to a pitch-black room, which wasn’t unusual, considering most of the windows in the house were meticulously boarded up. What was unusual was that he was back in his own bed. He rubbed the crust from his eyes and rolled over to face the dark room. His alarm clock read 4:30am. The sun would be up soon, but he was in no hurry to face the day. His head was swimming and he felt hungover. It took a little while for the reels in his head to crank up and rewind back to the night before, but when the memories played back, he was left dumbfounded. Had that really happened, or had it all just been a part of some crazy fever dream?

Guillermo felt more awake all of a sudden. He reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp, and something immediately caught his eye. A folded piece of paper sat tented beside the lamp, illuminated in pale yellow light. Guillermo snatched it up, heart racing. On it, scrawled in terrible handwriting, was a letter from one tall, dark, and sulky vampire:

[](https://ibb.co/jT8GpdL)

_Dear Geermo,_

_I am writing this letter becos I know that tomorrow night when this oil is hopefully worn off I will probably deny every thing. I dont want that. I want you to be happy. That is all I want. And if you will definetly be happy with me, then I will definetly be happy with you._

_In case we both forget, tonight you told me that you love me and you asked me if I love you and I am not ansering that on paper for the hole world to see, truth poison or not. But I care about you and I think about you a lot and I think that we should try to make the thing work like you said._

_I am going now becos this is very emberissing. If you show Laszlo or Nadja or Colin Robinsson this letter I will chop off your head. Espechly Colin Robinsson._

_Nandor The Relentless_


End file.
